Spirit Tree (Part 2)

My hands snapped twigs like they were bones. I didn't want to know which they actually were. And as the steepness pointed my nose further and further toward China, I wished I'd begun feet first. As we squirmed lower, it smelled wetter and rottener, like whatever sad possum crawled in one chance evening hadn’t found dinner or the exit.

I just hoped my face wouldn’t bump into a web and swallow the spider whole. I pressed my lips shut.

A pain lanced the side of my palm and I jerked my hand from something toothy. Zachary bumped into my backside and I jolted forward and fell onto my face.

“Sorry, Rae, you okay?” he whispered beside me. The whisper echoed around us.

“No comments about the fleshy part of my butt,” I moaned into the dirt.

Zachary chuckled and snaked his arm around my waist to help me up. I let him, just because it felt good, and looked around at the darkness. I could see nothing, just touch it like a blanket. It totally creeped me out. I pulled at my sack and felt for candles but all I fingered were crumbling sprigs of mint, and I remembered I hadn't packed a lightsource. So much for supernatural emergency preparedness.

“You didn’t bring matches, did you?” I asked.

“You looked like you had it under control," Zachary said. "Hang on, will this work?”

He fumbled for a minute and then a light shined brightly into my eyes. He held my phone high above his head and I wished he hadn’t thought of it. Not only because it seemed so wrong-out-of-place, but because it just illuminated more dark. He pointed it downward. At our feet, bones turned into truth.

“How is a place this big under the roots of a tree only that big?” I asked. Big as my climbing tree once felt.

A quake shook the darkness and I spread my legs to keep balance. As it died, the rumble was replaced by rough, scratching whispers that made my heart pulse. I whipped around in a circle, trying to see. “Zachary?” I said. “I think you should put the phone away.”

As the light disappeared, a different kind of light took its place. Many lights, in fact, from glowing forms that hovered a little too up close and personal. Their glares looked distinctly unfriendly, and I waved my arms and backed away. My legs knocked into something hard, and their mouths began to howl.

But they didn't touch me.

I forced my eyes back to a huge, square object that was distinctly blacker than the darkness. (Can I say that idea didn't comfort me much?) Sharp cold spread into my limbs and I forgot about the wailing faces and jerked from the stone. Above the monolith, the main root of the Tree twisted in a great gnarl, its shadows deep in the dim light. On the jutting black surface, several objects glinted. Rings, a couple bracelets, a belt buckle, an old key.

“Don’t touch them," a papery voice warned. "They’re the remains of the souls here.”

I whirled around, finding the face through the rest. "Mama?"

She looked like my mama. Real, yet horrifically unreal because she didn’t look like the mama I remembered. The one I'd cemented to heart was warm, funny, large. Filled with knowledge and energy and habits that made the world revolve around her. This mama was a wraith. I'm rolling my eyes at the description, too, but everything about her was thin--only a powdery layer of skin gave her presence.

Skin is nothing compared to souls, her voice chided me in my memory. When you look at a person, only shallow people look at the skin.

“Mama.”

She frowned instead of smiled. “What are you doing here, Rae?”

“I’m not sure, actually,” I said. “The Tree was waving, and you said to mind it.”

“I did, didn’t I?" She looked sad. "I was hoping you hadn’t remembered that.”

“Well, you didn’t give me much else to remember about it.” Irritation snuck into my voice.

“I’m sorry, Rae," she rustled. "I didn’t tell you on purpose. I hoped you were stubborn enough to want nothing to do with the Tree. Like your sister.”

“You always did like Leanne better,” I sighed.

“That’s not true and you know it.” That sharpness was real.

“I know, a mother loves her children the same.”

She nodded and her visage firmed up a bit. Maybe I should quote more of her motherly adages.

“Soo… now that I’m here, anything you want to tell me?” I asked hopefully.

Her bearing faded again. “No.”

“Come on, Mama,” I said, exasperated.

“I’m just trying to protect you.” She merged in with the other ghosts and I stepped after her, straight through the ugly faces. “Isn’t there anything useful you could share?" I asked. "Like how to get the branches to stop scaring off the wildlife? The bottles are half broken.”

“It should stop," she whispered. "Tie on new ones. Rae..." She sounded so sad.

I stopped.

"I wish you hadn’t come here.”

Something in my gut shoveled over and I tried not to sob aloud. “Well, it’s nice to see you, too, after all this time.”

This wasn’t my mama. My mama would have wrapped her arms around me and never let me go.

Zachary spoke right on cue. “Hello, Mrs. Corman.”

“Zachary," she said. "You shouldn’t have come, either.”

“I do what I can to help. Rae, there are words on the stone, under the bracelets."

His voice snapped me out of my moment. Reality--or sub-reality or wherever this place was that we were in--probably needed dealing with more than my girlish emotions. I'd done with grieving long ago.

I glared at the ghosts and walked back to my friend.

Mama let out a frustrated cry. “Listen, Rachel, you’re right. Now that you’re here, I’ll help you. Just, promise me you’ll try not to come back.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You think I want to come back?”

“That's my girl. Read the inscription.”

Her glow made the letters look sticky beneath the items. I read the words aloud.

"Entry below is free.

Entry back requires a price.

Part of thee always remains.

Return to ransom thee twice."

“Aren’t ancient poems supposed to have f's for s's?” I asked.

“That was ages ago, dear. This poem is only a few centuries old.”

“What does it mean?"

“What it says. Entry here is free, you arrived here without hassle. Unfortunately, the dead realms change you in a very permanent way.”

“Wait," I looked toward Zachary. He just watched my mama. "So we’re dead?”

“Not yet. When you leave. Unless you leave something of value as hostage.”

“Hostage?”

Zachary squeezed my shoulder. “Part of you remains. I’m guessing that's the ransom unless you leave something else.”

Mama nodded and I fingered my necklace, suddenly wondering. “What did you ransom when you came down here the first time?" I asked her. "Was it your ring?”

Her mouth hung into a cry, blending in with the rest of the sandpapery chorus.

“Seriously, Mama," I pressed. "All those years, you wore it. And then after Aunty died, you lost it. Is Aunty here? I don’t see her barrettes.”

Slowly, she shook her head.

“But I thought you buried them under the tree.”

She kept wailing and I pushed against my memory to make the connection. Prices... ransoms... “So you… gave them back to her? Was that her ransom?”

She ignored me. She was so different, I hated it. I snapped my fingers in her face. "Mama, stop it. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t want to,” she sighed.

Intuition hit me hard with the image of her stained yet bare finger. I gripped the ring on my chain. “If I give you the ring, will you be free the way you freed Aunty?”

“Don’t," she cried. "Don’t give me the ring, baby. I don’t want it.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to…” I started to cry, too, gosh darn it. “Don’t you want to come home?”

“No, baby, I can’t go home. I’m dead.”

Another punch to the gut. “Even if I pay your ransom?”

I’d always thought it was temporary, that one day she'd come home as easily as her ring had. Maybe she was lying. Maybe it was still possible... she was here, wasn’t she?

“I had my time Rae-Rae. I want you to have yours.”

I breathed deeply and glanced at Zachary, whose greenish face looked like it was considering pretty deeply. “Can I have a word with you for a minute?” I asked him. “On the other side of this deep and very disappointing underworld cave?”

He cracked a smile. “Sure, Rae. Do you mind, Mrs. Corman?" He nodded to the specters. "Miscellaneous misters and misses?”

Mama made a hollow sound. “Don’t mind us wraiths. And I’d keep it quick. Jake is waiting.”

“Jake?” I asked yet another question of seemingly unfortunate quality.

“Jake is the keeper of the demon.”